


What Good Are Friends Anyway?

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biting, Consensual Sex, Desk Sex, Dominant Masochism, Enemies, Gay Sex, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, Hallucinations, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, M/M, Masochism, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Roughness, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Jim questions Ed over Oswald's disappearance and Ed presses all the wrong buttons.Basically Ed and Jim have angry sex to cope with their respective frustrations.





	What Good Are Friends Anyway?

‘Those better be legal’, Jim warned.

Ed popped the pill into his mouth, refraining from biting down on it in Gordon’s presence.  
The other flatfoots had already left Oswald’s mansion having found nothing to suggest foul play in relation to his disappearance.  
Ed and Jim were in Ed’s office concluding Ed’s statement: Jim hadn’t trusted any other cop in the room with Nygma after his cockiness at the precinct.

‘Do you have any further questions Detective?’ Ed asked, ignoring Jim, ‘Or can I get back to work making sure Gotham doesn't crumble into the sea?’

Ed made a frustrated noise as he nearly dropped the pill bottle. He would have to put them in a box: easier to open.

Jim noted the sweat coating Ed’s face and the way his hands were shaking as he put the bottle in the top drawer of his desk. He didn’t like that and he didn’t like the non-descript statement Ed had given. Or the fact he had Barbara Keane as a witness for his alibi.

‘It nearly already did thanks to Jerome’, Jim said conversationally as he put his notebook away, ‘We couldn’t reach anyone at city hall that night’.

‘Is it unusual for a mayor not to be at city hall in the middle of the night?’ Ed asked, his impatience obvious.

‘It’s unusual for a mayor to be totally unreachable at a time of crisis. You know there were multiple mob hits the same night?’

Ed halted for the briefest of seconds as he tapped some papers on the desk to set them into a neat pile.

‘Probably. Such a state of chaos would be an ideal opportunity to attack one’s rivals with impunity’. 

‘Is that what Penguin did?’ Jim probed, watching Ed pretend to study a spreadsheet.

‘I don't know’.

‘Why not?’ Jim asked, eyes narrowing.  
Edward Nygma did not leave mysteries unsolved. The phrase ‘I don’t know’ was practically blasphemy to him but Jim had just heard it from his own mouth. Ed had said it so nonchalantly that, ironically it ended up sounding deeply suspicious. 

‘Because we're not joined at the hip!’ Ed snapped, slapping the spreadsheet down, ‘And because maybe I was more focused on the utter lack of progress you have made into the tragic death of my girlfriend?!’

Jim didn’t answer and Ed laughed humourlessly.

‘I thought not. It’s ridiculous! I bet the solution’s right under your nose and you’re just too dull to see it’.

‘Trying to tell me something Ed?’ Jim asked.  
As far as he knew, Ed’s girlfriend had been hit by a train. Accidental death. Was Ed saying it hadn’t been?

‘Maybe I shouldn't ask you to find anything out about Isabella’, Ed said bitterly, ignorant of Jim’s internal theorising, ‘You’re hardly the poster boy for healthy relationships. How is Dr Thompkins by the way?’

‘I think punching you in the face cheered her up’, Jim said evenly, crossing his arms.

Ed smiled at Jim’s defensive body language despite his even tone and the unpleasant memory Jim’s words had brought to the fore. Looks like he’d touched a nerve. How interesting. Ed just loved pushing buttons.

‘Do you enjoy the view from that high horse Jimbo? You talk like you actually care about Penguin being missing’.

‘I seem to care more than you do’, Jim challenged, ‘Thought you were close’.

‘How close?’ Ed asked, eyes darkening but then waved a hand, ‘No, doesn’t matter what you-what anyone thought or think. You know Penguin thought you and he were friends once?’

Ed pulled an overdramatic sad face.

‘Seems he was a bad judge of character’, he finished.

‘Does that also apply to you?’ Jim asked.  
Ed talking about Penguin in past tense was a bad sign as was Ed’s reaction to the mention of their friendship. Disagreements between convicted killers rarely turned out well.

‘I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating’, Ed said tersely.

‘Good because I know you’re involved in this Ed’, Jim said, walking around the desk to stand beside the seated Ed, ‘Once I have proof we can send you back to the hole Penguin helped you crawl out of’.

‘Well nobody helped _him_ crawl out of it did they?’ Ed retorted, standing slowly, ‘He begged you for help and you left him to rot in Arkham for something _you_ did! The GCPD may have forgotten but I haven’t!’

‘Is that why you told them I shot Galavan?’ Jim asked angrily, Ed’s words ripping open old wounds, ‘Revenge for a friend?’

‘No’, Ed lied, grinning wickedly, ‘I was just bored’.

Jim grabbed Ed and slammed him into the wall. 

‘You put on a good show for the cameras’, Jim said in a low voice, ‘Acting like you’re worried about Oswald but we both know you'd kill anybody who got in your way'.

'Takes one to know one', Ed replied and gasped as Jim pushed him against the wall, using his superior strength to pin Ed’s shoulders.

'Don't push me', Jim warned.

Ed catalogued how Jim’s pupils were blown wide and how hard he was breathing.  
A plan began to form in Ed's head as he considered Jim’s physical symptoms.  
It wasn't due to physical exhaustion.  
But then perhaps it was because Jim was... _oh._  
What an interesting theory.

'Why?’ Ed asked, dropping his aggression for a much more languid tone, ‘You afraid of falling?'

Jim’s brow furrowed in confusion at the sudden change in Ed’s demeanour.  
Just as Ed planned.

'You seem tense', Ed said and reached up.

He managed to stroke Jim’s face with one long index finger before Jim grabbed his hand.

'What the hell are you- _ah!'_

Jim hadn't noticed Ed's other hand siding to his crotch. Ed smirked triumphantly as his theory was proven right.  
Jim was rock hard.  
He wasn’t surprised: such a hot blooded crime fighter would obviously enjoy a little danger.  
So did Ed.

'I can take you to heaven, I make you feel alive but every time you experience me, a little part of you dies. What am I?' Ed whispered huskily.

Jim swallowed hard.  
He had no idea what to do.  
He knew what he should do but for some reason he couldn’t find the strength to pull away from Ed’s touch.  
Why was Ed touching him like this? What was the angle?!  
Just to mess with him?!  
He didn't realise his grip had tightened on Ed's other hand until he heard him give a small, breathy noise.

'You're hurting me', said Ed with a facial expression and in a voice that suggested anything but. 

‘What are you…’ Jim began to ask but was interrupted by Ed suddenly grinding up against him.

He tried to push Ed away but the other man was stronger than he looked as he wrapped his arms around Jim’s waist and pulled him closer.

‘I won’t tell’, Ed whispered into his ear, ‘What good’s a secret if you share it?’

‘You’re sick’, Jim growled, trying to push Ed away but his grip weakened as Ed ground against him once again.  
He realised Ed was just as aroused as he was.

‘Is that what Lee says to you?’ Ed said coldly.

Jim tried to say something to get Nygma to stop but the dangerous look in those brown eyes was hypnotic. It reminded him of a snake’s steady, unblinking stare.  
Jim knew he wasn’t into men.  
But something about this situation, Ed’s aggressive flirting and his own empty sex life was proving harder and harder to resist.

‘Come on, just let go’, Ed continued, relishing Jim’s indecision, ‘After all there’s nothing left of me for you to ruin’. 

‘Shut up’, Jim growled.

‘You’re only saying that because I’m right’.

This time, Jim was able to summon up the strength to physically hurl Ed against his desk. Ed fell back, using his arm to steady himself. He looked up at Jim, defiant despite his dishevelled state. His eyes shone feverishly behind his glasses.

‘You want to know how to get rid of that itch?’ he asked, ‘All that anger and frustration? The answer…’  
Ed tore off his tie and threw it aside.  
He gestured to himself, running his hands slowly up his chest and flinging them into the air in an overblown ‘ta-daa’ gesture.

‘Is right here’.

Jim moved forward slowly but as he drew closer, Ed scowled as he saw Jim take out a pair of handcuffs.

‘Turn around’, Jim said, gaze downcast.

Ed did as he was told, disappointment curling his lip.  
He supposed he would have to be content with the small victory of making Jim feel uncomfortable.  
It was shame. He had just been getting started.

But then he heard a different noise.  
The tell-tale sound of a belt being unbuckled.

Jim’s fingers shook as he undid his belt and let it hang loose.  
He saw Ed straighten up and knew he understood what was about to happen.  
Ed was right.  
He was frustrated.  
At Ed. At Lee. Himself. Gotham.  
The rage at the injustice he lived with on a daily basis was bubbling hot and thick inside him.  
The fury he felt every time Lee looked at him with disdain, the resentment he felt for being hated for saving her life and his sad inability to do anything about it was a potent poisonous cocktail pumping through his veins. He needed…release.  
But…with Ed? Really?  
Could he sink that low?  
Why was he even considering it?!  
He would have to be crazy!

He was snapped out of his doubts by the sight of Ed’s trousers hitting the floor.  
Ed leant forward over the desk and looked back over his shoulder at Jim.

Jim swallowed.  
This was actually happening. Oh fuck this was actually happening.  
He had to stop this.  
Whatever the Hell this was, it was wrong. 

‘What are you waiting for?’ Ed asked.

That cocky raised eyebrow and infuriating, mocking voice shattered any thoughts Jim may have had about walking away.  
Fuck it.

‘Not a damn thing’, Jim growled harshly and grabbed Ed’s shoulders. 

He pushed him down so his ass was raised.  
Jim could barely see the opening he needed beneath Ed’s long white shirt but a quick probe with his fingers confirmed it.  
Ed gave a shocked gasp and his hips bucked automatically.  
That was all the signal Jim needed.

After quickly spitting on his hand and stroking his cock, he plunged into Ed without further ceremony.  
He fought the ever dwindling little voice of reason down like bile rising up in his throat.  
He was sick of feeling empty and hurt! He wanted to do the hurting for a change!  
Ed deserved it for all the pain he’d caused!

Ed gave a strangled cry and Jim watched his fingernails dig into the leather surface of the table.  
His shoulders tensed and he shot Jim a venomous look over reddened cheeks.  
Jim rocked his hips viciously and Ed tore off his glasses, casting them aside as he kept his eyes on Jim.

Jim both loved and hated how he felt then.  
Ed was so warm and tight around his cock but the savage joy in his eyes as he looked at Jim was headier still.  
And just like Ed’s entrance, Jim felt himself being sucked in.  
No.  
He had thrown himself into this pit of self-loathing and self-destruction.  
So why wasn't he climbing out?

Ed was grateful he'd often used toys for his own pleasure as he swallowed down the pain of Jim’s thrusts.  
Being right was worth any pain.  
Besides once Jim found that little special spot it would feel-

‘Ah~!’ Ed gasped in bliss as Jim finally hit it and shoved his ass backwards, causing him to hit it once more.

Jim, annoyed at Ed's pleasure, pulled out.  
Before Ed could react, he forcibly flipped him around and threw him down onto the desk.

Ed tried to sit up but fell back as Jim grabbed his legs and entered once again.

Jim drove harder into Ed, breathing heavily.  
Ed's eyes were closed. His teeth were gritted in pain housed in a savage smile.  
A few strands of hair were hanging down over his sweat slicked forehead, moving back and forth in time with Jim’s thrusts.

'Look at me' Jim commanded.

Ed tilted his head away in a show of mock defiance but his eyes flew open when he felt Jim grab his chin and forcibly turn it to face him

Jim glared at the smug glitter in Ed's eyes despite their shocked appearance. In the dim light of the office, they were practically black save for a lone pinprick of light in either one.

'Like an audience Jimbo?' Ed teased breathlessly, 'Me too'.

'Is that how Penguin liked it?'

The jab hit home.  
Jim saw Ed's eyes go glassy but was unprepared for Ed's upper half suddenly rearing up from the desk, neck shooting forward. Like a striking snake, he sank his teeth into Jim's shoulder. Jim grabbed a fistful of Ed's hair as he bit down hard. Jim gasped at the pain, trying to ignore the pulse of arousal it sent through his whole body.  
Instead of pushing Ed away, Jim held him in place, grimacing at the pain but relishing the warmth of Ed's mouth as that clever, serpentine tongue flicked along his flesh.

Ed saw the hallucination of Oswald was watching.  
He was trying not to watch but Ed saw the way his eyes flicked enviously back and forth between Jim and Ed.  
After a few seconds, he saw Oswald’s pallid hand drift down to his own zipper.  
Ed gave a muffled laugh as he saw Oswald begin to pleasure himself, those long eyelashes fluttering as he stroked himself.

Jim could feel Ed, the bastard, grinning against the flesh of his shoulder.  
It was all his fault.  
Why Jim had been sent to Blackgate. Why he had lost Lee. Why he had never gotten her back.  
Why he felt so alone and empty every, single night.  
Why he had to resort to something sick like this to get off!  
He hated how good this made him feel, how warm Ed was beneath him and how he could just let go and relieve some of the angry pressure that had been driving him crazy.  
Ed was so thin he could almost be Lee. Those long fingers tracing up and down his back almost lovingly save for the nails digging into his flesh could be her hands.  
_Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._  
He pounded harder into Ed every time the mantra ran through his brain.

Ed hissed as Jim altered his pace, his asshole bruised and insides burning with the friction.  
He needed this: to be punished.  
He wanted it.  
He wanted…  
He cried out in simultaneous approval of Jim's technique and in realisation.  
If he closed his eyes this could be Oswald he was with. Oswald twisting his fingers into Ed's hair and moaning at Ed's tongue lathing his flesh.  
Making Ed pay for what he did. Showing him how much he had always wanted him.  
Who knew he was such a masochist at heart?  
It was a good thing too judging from the way Jim’s fingers were digging into his neck and scalp.

This was insane.  
Ed was insane. A killer.  
And Jim was fucking him bloody.  
What did that make him?  
As Ed gave another of those perversely delighted moans, head tilting back in euphoria, Jim decided he didn’t fucking care.  
He devoted all his energy to fucking Ed raw, his heartbeat loud in his ears and his teeth gritted so hard he thought they would splinter.  
He knew it wouldn’t be long now.  
Whether it was Ed beneath him or not, his impassioned thrusts were spurring him closer and closer to climax.  
He wanted Ed to remember this.  
Regret it: regret all the hurt he had ever caused.

Ed exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding as Jim suddenly released his grip on his neck and cried out as Jim grabbed his hips with both hands.  
Ed wrapped his legs around Jim, drawing him closer even as tears of pain fell down his cheeks.

‘This is wrong. This is so wrong’, Jim thought, as Ed gave an almost hysterical laugh, ‘This is unhealthy. Crazy. Poisonous’.

'If it’s so wrong, just stop’, Ed said through clenched teeth, 'If you can'.

Jim hadn't realised he had been muttering to himself.  
Jim could stop. He should stop. But he wanted to hurt someone. Ed wanted to be hurt.  
Win-win.  
Even if it was toxic.  
Why did the things that were bad for you always feel so good at the time?!

Ed was watching his hallucination of Oswald mimicking Jim’s movements behind Jim’s back, aiding in Ed’s fantasies as Jim pleasured him through pain.  
Despite the aches in his body from contact with the hard desk and the inferno of Jim pulsing inside him and tearing him open, Ed smiled with mindless bliss.  
He didn’t care what Jim thought of him and he knew Gotham’s white knight wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened between them tonight.  
Cops didn’t talk about whores they had been with.  
Especially if those whores were male.  
And convicted cop killers.  
Ed would gladly bear any humiliation Jim thought he was causing him just to see Oswald like this.  
Someone so proud reduced to pleasuring themselves at the mere sight of him. The sheer frustrated envy in those glass like pale eyes as Oswald watched Jim penetrate Ed. The tight line of his mouth as he desperately continued his pumping, powerless to stop against Ed’s wishes.  
He wanted Oswald to watch and remember that Ed could have been his.  
If he had only just asked.

His smile took on a cruel twist as he heard Jim give a barely audible husky sigh of pleasure.

‘Who would have thought? Jim Gordon's just a psycho like the rest of us after all'.

Jim grabbed Ed’s leaking dick in retaliation and began to pump furiously, desperate to have Ed cum before him.  
A small victory to savour.  
Ed gave a strangled yell and Jim felt his fingers grow slick with pre-cum. Ed's feet kicked futilely as he tried to rise to even the score but Jim pressed his thumb into the head of Ed’s cock and he fell back as his spine arched against the desk.

He was whispering the word ‘yes’ frantically, growing louder with each utterance of the word.

'Shut up!’ Jim snarled.

'Make me!’ Ed nearly screamed, ‘Oh God! Please _make_ me! Please! Ah- _ah!’_

Ed came undone and Jim followed suit a few seconds later, the two enemies plummeting over the precipice together, clutching each other in the darkness.  
Jim leant over the desk, spent and exhausted in mind and body.  
But Ed wasn’t done yet.  
Sensing Jim’s weakness, he grabbed his face in both hands and pulled him in for a deep kiss.  
Jim bared his teeth against Ed’s lips but refused to draw away. 

They kissed deeply, savagely biting each other's lips and tongues lashing as a crescendo to the act they had just committed.  
Jim tasted blood in his mouth. He didn't know if it was his or Ed's.

Ed didn't care.

When they were finally forced to part for air, Ed licked the blood clean from his damaged lip and watched the hallucination of Oswald defiantly as it faded away, cum dripping down between it's clenched fingers.  
He shoved Jim out of his way as he stood, trousers pooling at his feet.  
He felt warmth dribbling down between his legs.  
He ignored the bloody trail as he pulled up his trousers and reached for his discarded tie.

Jim winced as he touched his shoulder, feeling Ed's teethmarks beneath his fingers. The indentations were so deep, he was surprised Ed hadn't drawn blood.  
Out of the corner of his eye he felt a rush of gratification to see Ed lean heavily on the side of the desk for support as he stood. He felt grudging respect for Ed's composure: apart from his mussed hair there was no sign of what they had just indulged in.  
Ed’s illusion of control lasted only until Jim saw how slowly and carefully he lowered himself back into the leather desk chair, flinching as his rear made contact with the seat.

'Will there be anything else Detective?' Ed asked once he had settled and replaced his glasses.

The curt professionalism of Ed’s tone made shame crawl up Jim’s spine mixing with the discomfort of the drying cum in his boxers.  
Ed had used him and Jim had let him.  
Ed had been the one in control from the start and both of them now knew it.  
Jim was ashamed at how grateful he felt that Ed had seemingly decided not to dwell on the act, just get back to business. 

'Why did you do it Ed?'

Ed fixed him with a long, inscrutable stare.

'I can’t be bought yet I can be stolen with a glance’, Ed pronounced with bitter nostalgia, ‘I am worthless to one yet priceless to two. What am I?’

'That makes no sense’, Jim said, scratching his head, ‘If you loved him why kill him?'

Ed growled in irritation. He had meant Isabella! Not Oswald!

'Wrong! On both counts!’ Ed yelled, banging both hands on the desk, ‘I didn't kill him and I don't love him! Now get out!'

Jim left without saying anything, feeling simultaneously relieved and dissatisfied.  
Maybe Ed really hadn't had anything to do with Oswald’s disappearance.  
His use of present tense implied Oswald was alive. Did Jim have this all wrong? Was Ed just covering for Oswald while he was out of town or something?  
Most tellingly, Ed had seemed genuinely upset about Jim’s accusation he had killed Oswald. The Nygma Jim knew wouldn’t have been able to stop himself gloating about it in some veiled way.  
He was off the hook for now.

'What are you smirking about?!' Jim heard Ed snap in a hushed tone as he closed the door but he didn't go back in.

He was tired and he'd had enough insanity for one afternoon.


End file.
